


Lemon Cake

by FlyingOperaCompany



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Coming Out, Denial of Feelings, Feelings, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingOperaCompany/pseuds/FlyingOperaCompany
Summary: Daiki's life was okay. No, really, it was. So why did he have to meet him again?
Relationships: Aomine Daiki/Kise Ryouta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Why here?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fan fiction and English is not my first language. So please, have mercy on me :D  
> (Also, the title has nothing to do with the plot. Daiki just eats some lemon cake.)

It had been five years since he had left Japan. It had never been his plan to leave the country in the first place, but after he had gotten offers from teams in Dallas and Philadelphia, he had known that he could not pass on the opportunity.

Now, there was this stupid charity event that he needed to attend. No, charity was _not_ stupid – but the fact that he had been forced to attend it was, rather. His advisor had told him his attendance would result in higher shirt-sales for his entire team and a bigger following on social media, but that was not what Daiki cared about. He just wanted to play some basketball – and the NBA provided a huge challenge for him. But that was it – he had no 'intrinsic connection to the team' and did not care about whether or not people liked him.

Now he was in this stupid place with stupid people who pretended to seriously care about the starving children in Africa and not only about publicity. He had tried to at least be a bit polite to some of the people who had recognized him as Japan's national basketball treasure, but after he had had the fifth talk about stuff like wealth and influence, he shut down any conversation anyone wanted to have with him and now stacked his plate for the fourth time with nice desserts from the buffet.

 _At least the food is good,_ he thought gloomily as he picked up the last slice of lemon cake and wanted to return to his assigned place.

“Hey, care to share?“, he heard one of those annoyingly happy voices he'd heard plenty of times.

No, this could not be true. Not _here_.

 _"You_?“, he asked as he turned around and looked into probably the most beautiful face he had ever seen. And damn, it had not lost its beauty in the past five years. Not in the slightest.

Ryouta Kise, one of his old teammates, smiled at him as prettily as always. “Why, yes, are you really that surprised, _Aominecchi_?“

He still had not gotten rid of that stupid nickname. God, was it possible to love and hate someone at the same time?

“Yeah, of course, I am.“ Daiki tried to be as serious as always, but despite the effort, he could not help but grin for the first time this evening. „I mean, how big is this fucking city? And I had to meet the most annoying man in the world today, at this event?“

Ryouta looked dramatically hurt at first, but then, a smirk appeared on his rosy lips. “Does your current team know about your connection to the 'most annoying man in the world'?“

Daiki stared at him, trying to prevent the heat from reaching his head, but in vain. “Hah. Do you listen to yourself at all? What happened five years ago were premature fumblings and acts of confusion. Nothing more.“ He kept his voice down because after all, he did not want any of the other visitors at that event to spread... information.

Ryouta frowned, but not in an offended, but in a sympathetic way. Worse than any reaction Daiki could have expected from him. “It's been five years, and you're still trying to convince yourself you're straight?“

It was too much for Daiki. The memories in his mind made him feel hot in his suit and he did not know if he wanted to kiss Kise or slap him right in his face. “Shut up!“, was what he settled for instead. “You know as well as I do that you don't meet the love of your life when you're 17. At that time, I was... confused. And needed a distraction.“

"A 'distraction'?“ Tears appeared in the corners of his ex-teammates caramel-colored eyes, and Daiki instantly felt a sting very close to his heart. He had always hated seeing Ryouta crying, and usually, he had been the one to punish those that had made him cry. “Why do you have to be so cruel?“

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He wanted to hug Ryouta and apologize to him for everything he had ever said to him, but the possibility of people watching him right now prevented him from doing so.

"Come on, now. That stuff happened five years ago“, Daiki tried to act as if Ryouta's talent to overdramatize everything was the issue of this conversation going like it was, and not his denial of what he had really felt for him. “You should finally move on.“

Ryouta only shook his head and rushed out of the room. Daiki looked after him, wanting to follow him and to console him, but instead, he went back to his chair and stuck his fork into the last slice of lemon cake that somehow tasted decisively bitterer than the rest of the cake. He decided that he officially now had every right to get drunk at this event.


	2. Why you?

Ryouta saw Daiki only hours later again, sitting alone at a table and staring at something while he emptied his beer. Ryouta himself currently talked to a group of young models, some of which he had already had a couple of shootings with, and laughed and talked about the latest gossip. His eyes, however, kept going back to Daiki, who seemed like a depressed teenage boy who had just seen his girlfriend make out with another guy at his prom night. Kind of ironic, Ryouta thought, because he was the one who had every right to be depressed after what the former love of his life had said to him hours ago. Instead, he felt sadder _for_ him than _because_ of him.

He asked the girls to excuse him for a moment and went over to Daiki's table, not even knowing why, but the look at his ex-lover all by himself made his heart ache. He had told himself over and over again that Daiki deserved to be unhappy. But maybe not at an event that could ruin his entire reputation.

“How did that lemon cake taste?“, he asked with a smile that he granted every person he talked to. The perks and horrors of being a model: _always fake a smile, even if you're dying inside_.

“Good“, Aomine said absentmindedly, while his tongue almost stumbled over a single word.

Jesus, he was fucking wasted.

Suddenly, Daiki put his hands on the table and tried to push himself up. “I think I'mma go now“, was everything he said before he almost lost his balance and fell.

“I will come with you“, Ryouta decided, not even sure if this was actually a good idea, but the prospect of Daiki going home by himself like this made him feel very uneasy.

Daiki glared at him. “No, you're not. I'm not a child anymore.“

“You're drunk and it's been a couple of years since you've been to Tokyo. I know this city better than you do.“

“No, you don't.“

Ryouta sighed. He was even more stubborn now than when he was sober. “I'm calling you a taxi, okay?“ He pulled out his phone and typed in the number of a taxi service.

“You don't even know what hotel I'm in“, Daiki mumbled, while clawing his fingernails into the wood of the table to keep his balance.

“No, do you?“

“Nope.“ Ryouta's free hand ran through his hair and he could not help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. This was harder than he had thought. “Did you want to sleep on the street, or what?“

“I... dunno.“

Before actually calling the number, Ryouta hesitated and just looked at Daiki. This was Japan's most treasured basketball-player, a beacon of hope for the Philadelphia 76ers and for the Japanese national team, being too wasted to remember the address of the hotel his manager had placed him in. He should be lucky that Ryouta wanted to help him, or else, his entire reputation would've been ruined as soon as the first gossip magazines came out next week.

“Alright, I guess we're gonna head to my place then“, Ryouta decided and put his phone in his pocket. “We can just take the metro. It's only a couple of stations from here.“

“Are you fucking kidding me?“, Daiki said, suddenly seeming much soberer than before.

“Why would you want me at your place? To remind me of what a bad person I am?“

“That's a nice side effect, but more importantly, to give you a place to sleep beside the streets of Tokyo.“

Daiki stared at him as blandly. Then, he finally said: “Alright, good. What a good night this will be; being at my ex' place.“

“Ah, so I'm your ex now, and not only some 'distraction'?“ Ryouta would have really liked an answer to his question, but Daiki seemed to concentrate so much on walking out of the room that he could not even think of an answer. He had possibly already forgotten the question. Ryouta would give him the time he needed to figure out if their time together five years ago really was as meaningless to him as he had said because right now, his main concern was to get him home. Which was not easy. Ryouta was strong – he was a tall basketball-player, after all – but Daiki was even taller. He was glad that his old friend had made it out of the room without staggering too much around, but after they found themselves outside, he knew that the challenge had just started.

“Alright, the station is right over there“, Kise said, pointing at the sign that led to the metro. “Will you come with me now?“

There was that weird feeling in his stomach. Taking a guy home, especially a guy that he knew was not only into girls, was... maybe leading to something else than just providing him with a place to sleep for the night.

Then, he looked at Daiki, who squinted to even see the sign of the metro. Ryouta realized that there was absolutely no chance of anything happening between them tonight – given that he did not want to risk Daiki vomiting all over himself.

“Guess I have no choice, do I?“, Daiki asked and carelessly tried to just walk over the busy street, but Kise pulled him back on his sleeve.

 _An option would be to remember which hotel you're in and to just call a taxi_.

“Are you out of your mind? There's a traffic light right over there!“, Ryouta said and dragged his ex on his sleeve over to the traffic light.

This was like taking care of a toddler.

Daiki did not say anything. They crossed the street together with other pedestrians who were still awake at this late hour, still had places to go. Ryouta noticed that to them, he and Daiki must have seemed like normal friends. Or maybe a couple. How far from the truth, because if Kise was being honest, he did not even know what his relationship with Daiki was. _A distraction_. The words rang in his ears like a mantra. _Premature fumblings. Acts of confusion_. He did not know if he could really restrain himself from hitting Daiki at some point this night.

The next train was there in two minutes. As he sat there in the metro right next to Daiki in awkward silence, he could not help but think about the time five years ago. It was weird. So weird that he now sat right next to the man he once wanted to share his life with, who apparently had not valued the time as much as he did. Or at least he had said so.

His mind kept racing back to memories of Daiki and him, mouth on mouth, skin on skin. His blood rushed straight into his head and he tried to distract himself in vain. Damn. He was 22, not 17 – he should be able to restrain himself from thinking about his sexual experiences in public, but the fact that Daiki sat right next to him turned every bit of self-esteem into the obsessed teenager he once was. Obsessed with love, obsessed with him. Obsessed with the prospect of finally having found _the one_.

'The one' looked as if he desperately tried not to throw up right in the metro. This was not how it was supposed to go. Why did everything have to be so cruel and complicated?

“This is our stop“, Ryouta finally said the first words since they had set foot in the metro. Daiki just nodded and followed him outside.

The way to his apartment was not too long from the station, but today, it seemed like a long hike. He did not live in the most central borough, but it was mostly peaceful and pretty. The street was aisled by cherry blossom trees and he searched for his key as they reached the building of his apartment.

“You don't live in Harajuku?“, Aomine asked and honestly sounded interested in an answer.

“No, I like it here“, he said as he opened the front door. “I mean, it might not be as busy as the more central districts, but I've got everything I need in my neighborhood and it's really nice to go jogging in streets that are at least somewhat empty.“ He did not know why, but after his silence on the metro, he suddenly felt the need to keep rambling about stuff as uninteresting as the district he lived in. “I mean, I make some good money with my modeling and basketball, that's not the problem, but after being surrounded by people literally all the time at work, it feels nice to have some space.“

“Damn“, Daiki said as they had reached the third floor, “I had already forgotten how talkative you are.“

Ryouta just smiled and opened the door to his apartment.

“So... here we are“, he said almost sheepishly and let Daiki step inside first. He looked around for a bit, and then commented: “This looks just how I'd imagined it.“

“What's that's supposed to mean?“, Ryouta asked slightly offended as if Daiki had just insulted him.

“Dunno.“ He laid down on the sofa without taking his shoes off, which did not surprise Ryouta at all, and stared at the ceiling. “I mean, it's all so pretty, modern, and clean you'd hardly know it belongs to a guy.“

“Thanks?“, Ryouta said, not sure if it was actually supposed to be a compliment, and went into the open kitchen that was directly connected to the small living room. “Can I get you anything to drink? Some water, maybe?“

“Ugh.“

He poured him some water anyway and returned to the sofa, only to realize that Daiki had not moved at all. He just stared at the ceiling, blankly, without any trace of emotions on his face.

“Are you okay?“, Ryouta asked, notably concerned.

“Mh.“ Daiki took the water and gulped it down. Then, he stared at Ryouta instead of the ceiling. For a long time. An _uncomfortably_ long time.

“What?“, Ryouta finally asked when it got way too creepy in his opinion.

“Nothing. You're just... beautiful.“ He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. It was too much for him to understand – Daiki's words from earlier and his compliments right now. It made no sense. None at all.

“You still hate me, so what good are my looks?“

Daiki blinked as if he had no idea what Ryouta was talking about. Didn't matter. His cluelessness didn't matter, _he_ didn't matter.

“How can you do this to me?“, Ryouta asked and felt the tears stinging in the corners of his eyes again.

“How can you seriously tell me you didn't feel anything five years ago and tell me now that I am beautiful? What the hell is wrong with you?“ _Or wrong with me?_ , Ryouta added in a mental note because he could not even understand why, but he desperately wanted Daiki to kiss him even after everything that had happened.

“Stop crying“, was everything Daiki said, but not with the usual coldness in his voice, but with concern. A rare occurrence in the very limited emotional spectrum of Daiki Aomine.

“I can't!“, he shouted while the tears ran over his face. “How can you tell me, after everything you did to me, everything I've felt for you, that I was just a _distraction_?“

Daiki just stared at him. And then he closed the gap between them and kissed him.


	3. Why us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is so kitschy. And I had SO much fun writing it.  
> I hope you enjoy reading it as well!

He did not know why. He did not even know _how_. But for some reason, he had just wanted to kiss Ryouta, feel his lips again, be as close to him as he possibly could. Smell his sweet cologne and feel the tickling strands of hair on his face.

He remained like this for some time that felt like an eternity, but it was still way too short. As he released his lips from his ex-lovers', he looked straight into these beautiful, long-lashed eyes that had the color of melted caramel. And then, his fingers suddenly nestled at the buttons of Ryouta's shirt as he hungrily kissed him again. He wanted to touch his smooth skin, his trained chest, as much of him as he could. Ryouta shrugged his grey blazer off and completely succumbed to Daiki's kisses.

Ryouta was now the one who laid on the sofa, and he honestly did not even know when and how that had happened, but it did not matter. Daiki had opened his shirt and casually threw it away as his kisses lowered on his lover's body. His neck. His chest. His stomach. His-

“Wait“, Ryouta suddenly said as Daiki nestled at his belt. „Stop!“

He halted his movements and looked at him, puzzled. “I was just getting to the best part.“

Ryouta looked so confused and distressed that Daiki almost felt sorry for him. His pupils were dilated and his breath was heavy – even the at this point pretty obvious bulge in his pants was an indication of how much he had wanted this.

“This just makes everything worse“, Ryouta said, shaking his head. Daiki honestly did not even know what he meant, because he had always thought – always known – that he was pretty good at what he did.

“What the fuck are you talking about?“, he asked and wanted to resume his actions as soon as possible, but he had to admit that Ryouta's interruption had somehow destroyed the moment.

“How can you not understand that this is the worst thing you could possibly do to me right now?“ He was about to cry again. If he had been any other person, Daiki would have been annoyed by how emotional he was – but not Ryouta. He did not want to see him cry, _could_ not see him cry, knowing that it would hurt himself almost as much as Ryouta.

“Please, don't“, was everything Daiki could say before he saw his tears rolling over his cheeks again.

“I am not over you“, Ryouta said, looking straight into Daiki's eyes. “I've never been over you. And I don't know if you're too stupid or too ignorant to understand that, but – I can't do this with you. Not as long as I feel all of these things and don't even know if you feel the same about me in the slightest.“

Daiki honestly did not know what to say. _Talking_ was not his most well-executed skill; he'd always been more of a _physical_ guy. “Can't you just shut up about this stuff and enjoy it? I mean -“

“No!“ Ryouta stood up and ran his hand over his face in a poor attempt to dry his tears. “I can't just stop loving you, and believe me, _I've tried_ -“ The tears started falling again.

“Hey, now“, Daiki said and cautiously touched Ryouta's naked upper arm, knowing that there was a good chance that Ryouta would just snap it away. He didn't. “We can sort this out. Somehow.“ He did not want to talk about these things, especially not with Ryouta, but if that was what it took to make him stop crying... He had to. Whether he liked it or not.

“ _How_?“ It was a simple question, but Ryouta looked at him as if he already knew Daiki could not provide him with a satisfying answer.

“I... don't know“, he said, hating to admit it. He had to suppress a dry, self-pitying laugh. It was so pathetic. _He_ was so pathetic. Ryouta was right that everything was just his own fault; the fault of his own lack of dedication. He had never wanted to think about these sort of things – _feelings_ – because it had made him feel sad and confused. He had tried to suppress everything he had ever felt for a person in a romantic way, trying to swallow every nice word he had ever wanted to say to anyone. He had always tried to shove the romantic side of a relationship away while still trying to get to the physical side, and he had honestly thought it was fine. But now, there was Ryouta standing right in front of him – beautiful, crying Ryouta – who deserved so much better than him, and for the first time, he saw how his own actions affected the people around him.

It was too much. He just wanted to go home to Philadelphia, play some basketball, and forget that all of this had ever happened.

Ryouta looked at him. The disappointment and the pain in his eyes made his heart ache. “I think we should both just go to sleep“, he said, even though he probably knew that neither of them would be able to rest tonight. “Let me know if you need anything.“ His voice was metallic, as distant from his usual voice as possible, and he turned around to probably walk into a different room. Daiki's hand moved on its own as he grabbed Ryouta's wrist and therefore halted his movements. He did not even know what he was thinking. Maybe he did not think anything at all.

“Don't“, he simply said. His lips had opened and closed on their own. “Please, stay. I need you to figure out what's going on.“

As Ryouta turned to him again, the hate in his eyes had vanished. It had been replaced with something else, something that Daiki had always hated more than anything else – sympathy. But Ryouta did not say anything. He seemed to wait for Daiki to explain what he meant.

Daiki opened his mouth, but the words did not come out immediately. “I... I guess I don't really know what I want“, was his best effort.

Ryouta raised an eyebrow, almost amused, as if Daiki was just stating the obvious at this moment, but he still kept quiet.

He inhaled deeply. Why was this so fucking hard? Ryouta had just told him that he had loved him for five years, had not stopped loving him, and he had cried right in front of him. It was not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength, and Daiki knew it. But he just was not as strong as his (ex)-lover – and he hated himself for that.

“I always thought I was... normal“, Daiki murmured, unable to look into Ryouta's eyes. “Straight, I mean.“

“It's not 'normal'. That's just what everyone tries to make you believe“, Ryouta said with a surprisingly calm voice.

“Yeah, and they fucking succeeded.“

“Hey, look. I know it's not easy to figure that out.“ Ryouta smiled, but his eyes were sad, while he fixated his glance on a painting on the opposite wall. “I also thought I was straight when I was younger. I liked the attention of girls, I liked seeing them smile and talking to them... but then, you came along. And my thoughts kept racing back to you, to _your_ smile and _our_ conversations. And your body, admittedly.“

Daiki knew exactly what Ryouta was talking about. He had thought about him on the train, on his plane back to Tokyo, during important basketball games, and under the shower. He had thought that maybe it was normal, even for straight guys, to think about this sort of stuff now and then. But every time he had tried to think of his old life in Tokyo, Ryouta was there. Every time he had brought home a girl from some party, he had thought about Ryouta's body while having sex with a girl. Maybe he had just tried to push the thought of not being straight away, as he had done with basically everything else that had made him feel uncomfortable. Maybe he had felt too much for Ryouta to comprehend.

“I think I lied when I told you that you were just a distraction“, he finally mumbled. “I... like you.“

Ryouta was silent. He just stared at him and his eyes widened as if he had never heard a phrase like that before. But he did not say anything. He wanted Daiki to suffer a bit more.

“Seriously? You can't shut up most of the fucking time, and _now_ you're silent?“, Daiki asked and failed at covering up how nervous he was.

Ryouta just smiled. “I think I've never heard anything like this from you.“

“I just told you that you were beautiful before you started to freak out.“

“I hear that from basically everyone“, Ryouta said with a shrug and then laughed. “I mean, that's what I do for a living. _Being beautiful_.“

“And there are people who say that _I'm_ the most arrogant basketball player in the country“, Daiki said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Because you are“, Ryouta replied with the prettiest smile Daiki had ever seen, “But you've made some progress in loving somebody besides yourself.“

Daiki could not help but stare at Ryouta. _Some progress_ was an extreme understatement – he had never wanted to kiss somebody as much as him, feel him, be with him, but he knew that another loss of composure would not solve anything right now. He had to find a way to get his feelings across – through words, not through actions, for once.

“I can't believe that you make me do this“, he said while his voice stumbled over his own words, suddenly feeling drunk again. “Alright, I think 'liking' you is an understatement. I think about you all the time, but I was too stupid to realize that it is not straight to think about a guy that way all the time.“

“I think that's enough for now.“ Ryouta's blonde hair looked unusually messy and his eyes were still red from crying, but the smile that he granted Daiki made him look like an angel. “You don't have to force yourself to anything. We can take it slow from now on – as long as you don't start to kiss me again without any warning.“

Daiki wanted to protest, but if composure was everything it took to not mess this up right now, he would somehow be able to play along.

And then, he realized something.

“So, if we're in a relationship now, of some sort – with all the romantic, touchy-feely stuff – how does this work?“

Ryouta raised an eyebrow. “Wow, I knew that 'being romantic' was new for you, but I didn't realize that you are _such_ an idiot.“

Daiki ignored his insult and tried to explain: “I mean, I don't live here. My home is in Philadelphia now. My _team_ is in Philadelphia. And yours is in Tokyo.“

Ryouta was silent for a moment. “I've never told you this, but I got offers from teams in the NBA as well.“

“What? Seriously?“ He did not know why he was surprised, because after all, he knew how good Ryouta was – almost better than anyone else. He had played against him and with him and had seen him rise. Of course, he had gotten offers from some American teams; such talent would be wasted in Tokyo.

“Yeah. From L.A., Boston, San Antonio, and Brooklyn.“ Daiki knew that he should feel happy for him, but the competitive basketball player within himself was jealous. Ryouta had gotten more offers than him, that bastard.

“So... you could come to the US, you know. Tokyo would never be able to offer you what you need.“ _Athletically and romantically_ , he added in a mental note.

Ryouta looked thoughtful. “I could. I mean, if I accept the offer from the Nets... there's some distance between Philadelphia and New York, but it's doable. If we try.“

Daiki could not prevent himself from grinning, and he knew that he probably looked like an idiot, but he did not care. The prospect of seeing Ryouta more often was uplifting, and for once, he could not even try to cover up his emotions.

But his euphoria ended as suddenly as it had started.

“There's not a single gay basketball player in the NBA“, he realized. “We'd have to keep it a secret.“

“Not necessarily. I've come out to my entire team years ago, so everyone already knows I'm gay.“

“You did?“, Daiki asked and could not hide the admiration in his voice. Ryouta definitely was several steps ahead of him when it came to accepting this entire sexuality-stuff.

“Yeah, but this is Japan. People don't tell you what they truly think because they pretend to only care about your performance, and I am the best player on their team. They respect me too much for what I do for the team to bully me because of my sexuality.“ Daiki knew that Tokyo and the NBA were two entirely different settings, two entirely different _worlds_.

“But in the US, there are players who are better than me. Better than us. We wouldn't have the kind of respect that you had in Tokyo. We'd just be _the gays_ – if they're polite.“

Ryouta looked as if he already knew this. Daiki saw that his lover's eyes had gotten wetter again and he blinked. “Yeah. I guess you're right.“

Silence fell between them.

“Fuck“, Daiki suddenly said and shook his head. He felt the anger rise in him as he thought about how he had finally somewhat accepted himself, but that the world would never fully accept him – and the worst thing was that he would never be able to change that.

“I mean, we could keep it a secret“, Ryouta said thoughtfully. “Maybe we _should_ keep it a secret.“

“No“, Daiki heard himself say, “We shouldn't, and we won't.“ Ryouta looked at him, surprised, but he waited for Daiki to go on. “If they've got a problem with us, they can go fuck themselves. I don't care. That's their lack of decency, not mine.“ He had always been confident, and he knew that no one in his team would dare to confront him. He was one of the best players in his team, one of the best in the entire league, and he had never cared about the opinion of other people about him. Dragging Ryouta into this was the problem, but since he was openly gay already, it was probably better to go along and not give him the impression that he was all alone.

“You're strong, but not unbreakable“, Ryouta said. “I'm not sure if the NBA is ready for two gay basketball players at the same time, being a _couple_. I mean, that's huge.“

“They'll better be“, Daiki said, looking right into Ryouta's eyes. They remained like this, staring into each other's eyes, until a smile appeared on Ryouta's lips.


	4. Epilogue

The leaves had turned from green to brown, orange, and yellow and the sky was light blue; a perfect day for a walk through the Central Park.

They had taken turns when it came to visiting each other, and even though Daiki regularly complained about driving to New York, he had fallen in love with the city. The Central Park had turned into their favorite spot for 'romantic bullshit', as he bluntly put it, such as the autumn walk they did right now.

“It's funny to think that a year ago, you still thought you were straight“, Ryouta said as he stared off in the distance.

Daiki did not like to think about how much he had hurt Ryouta at that time, but he had to admit as well that it was weird how much everything could change in a single year. He had outed himself shortly after Ryouta had accepted his offer from the Brooklyn Nets and they had made their relationship public. Of course, the press had instantly turned their coming-out-love-story into one of their main selling points, and the reactions had been mixed, but mostly positive. Some teammates had congratulated Daiki and even the former president Obama had praised their honesty. There were still assholes who tried to hate on them, but Daiki did not pay them any attention.

Everything was good, maybe even perfect, if Daiki tried to not be as pessimistic as always. Ryouta reached out to his hand, and he accepted it, even though he still thought that holding hands was probably the most stupid sign of affection there was.

“I would have never thought about holding a guy's hand in public“, he agreed.

“To be fair, you probably also never held a _girl's_ hand in public“, Ryouta said and laughed.

His laugh sounded so melodic and pure that Daiki forgot to give a snappy answer and just needed to look at Ryouta. The light that broke through the leaves made his hair look like a halo and there was a shimmer of gold in his eyes.

Daiki could not help but kiss him. Just like every other time when he felt Ryouta's lips on his own, he knew that he loved him. That he never wanted to leave him, that all the hard decisions he had to make in the last year had been right and that not a single hate comment on his social media accounts or a homophobic shout during his basketball games could make him question his love for Ryouta.

“Hey, fags! Suck some dick at home and stop bothering other people, will ya?!“

Daiki turned around and saw that there was a group of teenage boys approaching them, who now laughed at the stupid comment that one of them had made. One of the boys had a basketball pressed under his arm.

“Oh, we do“, Daiki said while eyeing the wannabe-gangsters up and down. He noticed that one of them was wearing a shirt of the 76ers, his very own team. “You like to play basketball, huh? I wonder if you can show some _fags_ what you're made of in court.“

“Don't“, said Ryouta next to him, “Just ignore them.“

Daiki did not want to ignore them. This was not about him, but about Ryouta, because he knew that these sort of comments hurt his boyfriend more than he liked to admit.

The boys were laughing again. “Fags don't play sports“, said the one with the jersey, “But if a match is what it takes you to realize that, I can't let the opportunity pass by.“

These were not true basketball-fans. They had just picked a random team and thought the jersey looked cool on them because there was absolutely no way that real fans did not recognize some of the best players of the NBA standing right in front of them.

They moved to the closest basketball court in the Central Park. There had already been some people following them, fans, possibly, who were curious to see how this entire thing would turn out.

The seven teenage boys looked a bit startled by the huge audience that had gathered around the court, but they still grinned widely right before the game started. The very first pass was easily blocked by Daiki, who then dribbled the ball over the entire field, leaving four more teenagers behind before he passed to Ryouta for the final throw. Ryouta performed an absolutely effortless dunk, as if it was no big deal, and looked so unbelievably sexy doing it that Daiki wanted to kiss him again immediately.

The boys were left speechless, and with each point that Daiki and Ryouta scored, their grins vanished more and more. The boy with the 76ers-jersey looked as if he was about to cry.

The crowd, which had only expanded over time, cheered after Daiki scored the 20th or 30th point – he had stopped counting. When the teenage boys finally surrendered, fans started to run on the court and begged Ryouta and Daiki for an autograph. Some of them told them that they had posted their match on social media, others said encouraging words to counter the stupid, homophobic comments the boys had made before.

After the fans had vanished and the sun had gone down, they decided to go back to Ryouta's apartment, hand in hand.

“Don't let the words get to you too much“, Daiki said as they had almost reached the right house. “They were just stupid kids. They didn't know what they were talking about.“  
“I know“, Ryouta replied, “But it's sad, isn't it? That you are hated by some people just because of the person you love?“  
“We knew that before we came here. And there are many people that support us.“

“Yeah. You're right.“ Before opening the entrance door, Ryouta looked at Daiki and smiled. “You don't even know how happy you make me.“

“Oh, I _do_ know that“, Daiki said with a grin. “And I have to admit... I had to keep my shit together, seeing you on the court this close again.“

Ryouta laughed, but he did not take his eyes off of Daiki. “I didn't know you had a fetish?“

“A blonde basketball player-fetish? How could you _not_ know that?“ He kissed him again, happy that this time, no one interrupted them. When they released their lips from each others' again, he noticed that Ryouta's eyes glinted in the poor light of the street lanterns with something that was not just happiness.

“Shall we take it upstairs?“, he asked suggestively, “Because I think that at some point, people will _really_ feel bothered.“

“To 'suck some dick'? Sure“, Daiki said before the words had reached his head.

Ryouta snorted. “It's been an entire year, and you still haven't gotten better at this romance-thing.“

“But you've stopped complaining about it“, Daiki replied with a smile on his lips, while following his lover inside the house corridor.

Yes. Maybe it was 'perfect', after all.


End file.
